Shadow & Light

Chapter 1

The sound of a sword snapping through the air, missing my head by a centimetre, deafened me for a moment. Blood rushed in my ears. My heart beat rapidly. Sweat dripped down from my forehead and I quickly maneuvered out of the way of the sword's path. The fringe bangs that I should have pinned back clung to my forehead and as I dodged the attack the rest of my long inky black hair whipped me in the face.

In a battle, to take even a moment to stop is the difference between life and death, so I recovered immediately and retaliated against my opponent faster and stronger. Each swing of my sword expressed my experience with using the long blade. The dust of the ground beneath us flew up into the air, creating a thin cloud around us, disturbed by each step as we turned and shuffled. Within seconds the girl across from me stumbled, and I used that chance to send her falling onto her back and aimed my weapon right at her heart, stopping just before it hit.

I had to admit, this was one of the better fighters in our kingdom; she had more skill than the lot I was put with last week. That does not mean she was a challenge. I hadn't had a damn challenge in this kingdom for years, at least when it came to fighting, though I had never understood why training for battle was essential when there was no threat to be prepared for. I practiced the art of wielding the long blade because I truly loved it. The way the world disappeared when I held it, the way the adrenaline kicked in and I became a total machine. Maybe some part of me liked it because I was safe this way. No one could hurt me with this deadly object in my hands, though the power beneath my skin often didn't stop people from trying.

Looking down at the sweat-soaked, butt-hurt girl still sulking on the ground I reached my hand out offering to help her stand, but didn't miss the fear that passed through her sharp blue eyes as she backed away. It's not like I wasn't used to it. It came with the territory of being a fae of death. Everything I touched died in some way or another. Not in that angsty teen way, no, everything I touched would disintegrate or die if I wanted it to. I was the equivalent of what death would look like if it took physical form. Or my power was. I looked like a regular fae. Though you would think I looked like the Grim Reaper with the way everyone looked at me. People thought they were a goner when I touched them, like I didn't know what self-control was, or like I was still a faeling who had just gained their powers. When we first showed our powers, fae were a bit unpredictable, having little to no control over where or when they occurred. I, however, was a twenty-year-old female, and did have control over myself. It only happened when I tried to make it happen. That didn't stop her fear, or anyone else's for that matter, and I'd be lying if I said that watching people cower away from my touch didn't chip away at my heart.

I hid my hand behind my back, watching her stumble into a standing position like a newborn deer. I sheathed my sword, rolling my eyes and coldly meeting hers.

"Your fight was good; you’re fast on your feet." I watched her beam with pride at my compliment but quickly calmed her ego, saying, "That being said, your footwork needs a lot of work- it’s sloppy and uncoordinated. You think too long before every strike, which gives any opponent ample time to kill or injure you. Let your instinct guide you. I understand you want to make sure your attacks are well thought out but you take too long; trust yourself and your experience. This does not, however, mean you should swing the blade around willy-nilly hoping to hit something. Your blade isn't a mind reader, and it won't fight your battles for you." The girl huffed out in annoyance, her expression changing from slightly friendly to hostile and bitter. I could tell she didn't like being told what she did wrong. I smirked and spoke with a hint of arrogance that sometimes made its way into my words when dealing with these people, "Settle down. I didn't say you were bad; I already told you that you did well, and your stamina is decent. But no one is perfect and that goes for you too, you have work to do."

"Well, I'm better than you anyway! You just tripped me on purpose because you knew you would lose if you didn't!" Her stubborn high-pitched voice whined back at me, and I barked out a laugh at that.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Suddenly, my head whipped to the side with force, and a quick sting followed by a growing burn spread slowly over my left cheek. I stood there frozen for a moment, astonished that the little s**t slapped me. In less than a second, my sword was out and I'd pounced on her before she could blink, pinning her to the ground with my blade at her neck. The fear in her eyes was so palpable I could almost taste it. Her hands pinned at her side started to glow orange with the light of a small flame, but one menacing look into her eyes had her squashing it, knowing I could do much more damage.

I held her gaze, daring her to move. One last look, then I hopped off of her, acutely aware of the crowd gathering—all looking at me, some staring at me in disgust and others in fear

Keeping my chin up high, I raised my voice so the whole group of teens could hear me, "You did fine today, though I expect much better next time. Class dismissed."

I kept my eyes cold and distant and sheathed my sword in the heavy case that hangs from a sturdy belt at my waist, the other more lethal swords hung heavy on my strong back; those would most likely never come out, their poison-dipped blades far too dangerous and unnecessary for the class of combat I taught. This class was supposed to be for advanced fighters, though in reality it was just filled with the brats of the rich who couldn't stand the idea of being in the beginners' class where they belonged, so their parents bought them into my class, where they could feel like they actually knew something. I wasn't being totally fair, some people had actually cared to master the sword and did belong in this class. But in a kingdom where danger never came, the citizens never truly took fighting seriously.

I turned around and began the long walk back to my cottage, so I could go home and take a nice long bath before heading to the library. If it were up to me, I would spend all day in the library with Mrs. Tillett, but the call of the blade and the king's insistence that I be trained for combat and train others, coupled with the fact that the librarian had a mate and two teenage daughters, meant my hours at the library were few and far between.

During the long walk to my house, I admired the outward beauty of our kingdom. Beautiful greenery surrounded the place, cozy cottages and the large homes of the richer fae in our little kingdom, all beautifully built and with well-kept lawns and blossoming gardens. The cottages built so long ago were arranged in a wide arching circle, all surrounding a vast courtyard and a large castle.

We were in a dimension next to the human one, so close, yet we would never meet. We were the only kingdom of fae in this dimension or any other. Known only to humans as conniving and evil magical beings who didn't exist beyond books of folklore. The truth behind faeries or fae was a bit more complex. From what I had gathered we shared many similarities with humans—with similar bodies and ways of living, yet we were oh so different. Pointy ears, sharp fangs, and ethereal faces that would draw in humans like a magnet if ever seen. Fae were hauntingly beautiful, much like some stories depicted. Furthermore, we had many powers— some could shift into an animal, some could wield the elements, and some could create storms or control weather patterns. Other fae held more practical powers—skilled with mechanics and construction, born mathematicians who helped with the development of our kingdom, and some were skilled musicians from birth. No one was like me, though. No one was born for death and darkness.

Fae were not born with wings like faeries in the tales—it took years of effort for a standard fae to earn their wings as they only appeared once the faerie unlocked the full extent of their powers—a feat only achieved through extremely difficult and gruesome training. A select few extremely rare fae had been born with wings, though. From my research and my conversation with Mrs. Tillett, I learned of a strange occurrence that took place when her mother was just three years old, a story her mother later told Mrs. Tillett. Apparently, anyone over the age of three lost all memory of the kingdom, everything but the basic ability of their powers. With the loss of memory and power no one really knew that we could gain wings unless they bothered to look in books. Some old books described that a faerie could unlock their full powers and in doing so would gain wings. Since no one had a memory of how to do so this ability became long forgotten, to most just a myth. With that knowledge, knowledge of this kingdom and our ancestry vanished too, forcing everyone to rely on the royal family, who seemed to be unaffected by the memory wipe.

Another thing to note about fae was that we had mates, short for soulmates—another individual who was destined for each of us. We met our mates at eighteen, though meeting your mate didn't always happen with the limited amount of fae that existed in our kingdom. Those who did meet their mate experienced a love that apparently topped anything ever felt. When meeting their mate, the fae would smell an intoxicating scent and would be pulled towards the direction of their mate. When a pair of fae accepted each other, they had to perform a sacred ancient ritual that had been around for centuries as the book described, a bite to the neck with our sharp fangs and a beautiful tattoo would adorn each fae, the placement varied, and each was unique to the couple. Very much like fictional vampires. This ritual had been brought back after the memory wipe, as it was a way to ensure those who were lucky enough to find their mate could successfully bond and continue the existence of our kind. With the limit on how many fae found their mates many chose to bond with those who weren't their fated mate since it would be a lonely life if none of us could find someone to spend our lives with. With a population as small as ours, mating was necessary to keep the species alive.

I was drawn out of my thoughts as a beautiful little bluebird flitted across my vision, so close I could reach out and touch it. My walk was peaceful, and I was alone for the most part—save for a few kids running around and parents chatting before heading home from their jobs to spend time with their families. The sound of the gravel crunching under my feet created a steady, pleasant rhythm. I passed a group of girls that I knew all too well and sighed; I was hoping I wouldn't have to see them today.

I was a pretty lonely kid for all of my school years, and when I was twelve years old I tried to join their friend group. To my shock, they didn't laugh or run in fear. They showed me what I now know were the fakest smiles they could muster, and over-enthusiastically rushed me into their circle. I should have known it would be a lie considering this group rarely allowed people into their circle. A few days later I opened my locker to grab my textbook for math when someone came from behind me, tied my hands behind my back and blindfolded me. I cried as they dragged me through the halls lined with students who didn't help, only pointed and laughed. The poorly tied rope digging into my wrists, leaving a raw stinging sensation for a week. Thin beams of light slipping through the blindfold as I was led outside. The humid, almost-summer spring of air pressed into my skin. The feeling of damp grass under my feet alerted me that we were on the sports field. Still disoriented, my hands were untied–then I was shoved; falling into something wet, sticky and foul smelling. I forced my eyes open, trying to see through the thick, inky brown–almost black–substance and my hot tears of shame. Through them I saw a crowd of what had to be forty or fifty students from different grades, laughing and pointing. I had never felt so humiliated and betrayed as I did in that moment.

The leader of the little friend group walked up to me with the most malicious, evil grin I've ever seen on a twelve year old. "You really thought you were one of us? I've seen your pathetic powers. This mud looks just like you and your power. You are nothing but a weak, worthless disease. It would have been better if you had never been born; I can't believe you ever thought you deserved friends." With those awful words, she cackled loudly and started to walk away. "No wonder your parents abandoned you; no one wants death for a daughter." Giving me one last evil look, she left me in that mud, with my so-called friends walking behind her. The rest of the crowd dispersed, heading to class, while I did my best to hold back the sobs that threatened to take over my little body. When everyone was gone I cried so hard I thought I was going to explode. But I didn't. Not that I didn't want to. After sobbing in that mud for who knew how long I had picked myself up from the sludge I'd been thrown into and trudged all the way to my lonely cottage — a walk that took two hours at the pace went. Returning to my cottage, isolated from the rest of the kingdom, I realized it mirrored how everyone in this kingdom saw me: a sad little entity, forever set apart.

This memory was not nearly as traumatic now as it had been eight years ago, the words of unsophisticated twelve year olds often don't sting as a person grows up. But the pain I felt, the final blaring sign that I would never be accepted, that no one would ever love someone who could kill them at any moment, that pain left a lasting mark on my ever too sensitive heart. There was a tiny bit of truth to what she said. My parents did leave me when I was just a baby—or at least that's what we assumed, considering I appeared by the edge of the kingdom one day with no one looking after me. As for the part about being pathetic and weak, I made sure that those two words couldn't be true when spoken with my name. I trained to become strong and smart.

But then there was the betrayal she partook in only two years ago—the one that had left me so irreparably damaged I didn't think I'd ever heal. Those memories flashed brightly in my head, blinding me for a moment before I shoved them down and out of reach.

I dragged myself out of the awful memories, and instead of running, sneered at their petty group, lip curling as I bared my teeth. Genevieve, the still leader of their awful group, turned to look at me and returned the look of disgust. How someone so pretty could look so hideous still baffles me. "Hey look, it's death herself! Poor sad little Alina; she looks just as pathetic as she did all those years ago." She spoke with that fake pout she thought would make all the boys drool. It made Finnian roll over, sure--but it only made me want to hurl into a bush. Pathetic. She continued her sad insults, though by now I'd heard them all and I was starting to check out; "Poor little b***h, no friends, no mate, no anything really!" She finished with a giggle that sounded more like the cackle of a creepy witch to me. In response to her words, I allowed some pretty black tendrils to snake from my fingers. If she truly thought I was made for this, I might as well give her an up-close look.

I stood stock-still as the little death strings slithered along the dusty path, slowly making their way towards her like a starving animal hunting prey they wanted to devour. She backed away in fear as they crept closer and stopped right before her. One of them raised to her eye level, jiggling in an almost waving motion, like a hand greeting a friend it passed in the school halls. It quickly became vicious under my command, snapping around her neck and cutting off air flow for only a moment, but that terrifying moment was enough to tell her that she wouldn't get the satisfaction from her torment that she got all those years ago. I let it slither around her more, encasing her body and lifting her an inch off of the ground as her friends watched on in open-mouth and wide-eyed terror. The other tendrils snaked towards her friends, but before they could land those friends picked up their feet and ran like their lives depended on it. Genevieve watched her friends leave, suspended like a doll in the air. Her eyes were starting to pop out of her disgustingly beautiful face that had turned a sickly pale blue color. When I thought she had had enough I let her down, gently letting her feet touch the ground. As my black tendrils receded she slumped to the ground, coughing and sputtering.

I called the tendrils back to me, sealing them away where they came from, checking her to make sure she wouldn't die. Was I petty? Yes I was. Was I cruel? To some, maybe I was. Was that completely necessary? No. I should have walked away and ignored them. But then again I couldn't muster the courage through my tears to defend myself as that little twelve-year-old girl. Not just from them, but from the cruel comments, disgusted or fearful stares, from the snide remarks, and everything in between. What followed their open rejection was treatment that I wouldn't wish on the worst of fictional characters I had read about. Eventually I had stopped going to school altogether, instead staying in the library every day and teaching myself. Normally that wouldn't have been allowed. But students and teachers alike didn't complain at the disappearance of a girl who held so much of a threat in her little pinky finger. This small act was for my twelve year old self and for every other time this ignorant and cruel kingdom refused to show me any kindness, and refused to make any attempt to get their heads out of their asses and understand that I wasn't a monster.

Genevieve stood in indignation, angered and ready to spit some other harsh insult at me, but one raise of my hand told her I would bring my power back without a second thought, and I knew she wasn't willing to find out if I was willing to kill her this time. I wasn't, but one near-death encounter was enough for her, and she high tailed it in the direction her friends ran. With that I continued my walk, and though I still hurt from the memory of what happened; it felt good to have avenged my past self. I was strong now and everyone knew it. I wouldn't take a single ounce of bullshit and everyone knew it.

I arrived at my cute little cottage, a one-colour home with sanded oak siding, vines that had grown along every wall, and faded rose-colored shutters which sat on either side of tinted windows that didn't allow anyone to see inside. I made my way up the stone walkway and stepped onto the small stone porch, pulling out my keys to unlock the three locks sitting on the burgundy door. My house was off towards the edge of the kingdom; the king thought it would be best to stay as far away from the other faes as possible. You'd think they wouldn't be so frightened considering there are hundreds of them, each with strong powers or abilities, but alas I was so terrifying. I guess being the best warrior in the kingdom didn't help.

Once inside I kicked my muddy shoes off of my aching feet with a sigh of relief and walked through the hall, passing the sitting room, then turning right into another hall which had three doors: a bathroom (without a shower) for guests, not that I ever have any, a spare bedroom after that, and a master bedroom at the end.

I headed into the master bedroom as my aching body screamed at me. I decorated this room to be my own little oasis, with a cute lit vanity on the far wall, and entrance to the walk-in closet next to that, with walls painted a pale yellow and decorated with fairy lights and artificial vines with bright green leaves and large, fake flower blooms of all colors. The thick white fur carpet tickled my feet with every step. The walls of the main bedroom were painted a cozy, very light burnt sienna color. On the far wall my king-sized canopy bed, made with dark wood, had a bedspread with patterns in all shades of yellow that looked like someone painted them on the comforter using watercolor paints. The canopy was snaked with the same flower vines in my closet, wrapped around the whole thing and each post, intermingled with fairy lights and sheer white curtains falling on either side of the bed. To the right of my bed was the door leading into my bathroom which contained my beautiful porcelain bathtub which would be my saviour. My body ached everywhere.

After struggling out of my sticky clothes which smelled so bad they would make anyone gag, I shoved those in a hamper and put on my fluffy robe. Sauntering into my bathroom and to my bathtub I ran some hot water, checking to make sure it was just right before throwing in some bath salts, a fruity smelling bath bomb and setting up a couple of candles around the bath to set the mood. I made my way downstairs in my fluffy robe to raid my pantry, which was stocked with my favorite snacks, and picked out a bag of mini cookies, then picked out a little platter of prepackaged cheese and meat. After the day I had I needed to indulge a little. Back inside my bedroom I grabbed the human book I was currently reading, Jane Eyre, and went back into the bathroom, placing my food and entertainment on the counter while I got my robe off and turned off the now full tub. Carefully stepping into the tub, and laying back, I relaxed a great deal, book in hand, snacks next to me on the little ledge beside the large tub.

This day had been one of my more exhausting training sessions. With it being a Saturday, school was out, which meant I was stuck with every single high school kid, and the recently graduated too. With nothing to do their parents stuck them on me to begrudgingly learn how to wave a long sharp stick around, most of these teenagers would likely stab each other on accident if I wasn't there to help.

With a long exhale I allowed myself to get lost in the pages of my book, clearing every other thought from my mind.